


Duck

by Razza



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Author knows next to nothing about Amora, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HE DOES IN MYTHOLOGY, Loki doing good things, M/M, Pre-Slash, Steve suffers from daydreams, Technically pre-serum Steve, That doesn't stop author from using convenient sorceress, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razza/pseuds/Razza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve suffers from daydreams of thinking he can do all these fancy moves and actually fight. How can he do that when he can't even run? Then he starts to see a beautiful stranger with the most amazing eyes that starts to help him. Is this stranger just part of a dream, or is there something more to this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duck

For as long as he could remember, Steve had strange dreams, strange daydreams even. Of course, he'd been told so often in his life that he was a dreamer, his head so far up in the clouds that he'd lost touch with reality.

 

He didn't feel like that type of person, but all evidence pointed to the fact that he was indeed a dreamer.

 

The thing that got him was it was always the same thing, fancy fighting moves and a body both foreign and yet felt so right at the same time. And always, **always** , he was bringing his arm up, as if to block a blow. Before he could shake the fancy, he would feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He felt so alive. 

 

In one such waking dream, for one fleeting second, the blond could have sworn he saw a pair of flashing green eyes. For weeks after that he thought of nothing but emeralds. 

 

Just when he stopped thinking of green meadows of clear and fragrant grass  **he** came into Steve's life. 

 

For just one second, he wished he wouldn't have met him, but quickly banished the thought. 

 

For several days, the beautiful creature floated through his life, both frustrating and making the frail young man happy. But try as he might, he could not get the bravery to approach the man, even going as far as attempting to avoid him. It bothered him to no end, he was usually brave about anything else, how could this man bring out such a feeling of cowardice in him? 

 

“Captain Rogers,” a smooth and certainly deadly voice purred and Steve turned, blinking rapidly. 

 

“Excuse me?” he asked, confused, **he'd** never been a captain of anything, he was far too frail for any activity. His confusing evaporated in the face of the man he'd been eying so avidly. Of course his voice matched his face; beautiful. 

 

Steve floundered and the vision in front of him smiled, looking even more attractive then before. He had the sudden thought that he should smile that genuinely far more often and the confusion was back, how would he know that he didn't always smile like that? Before he could say anything, his mystery man's face morphed in concentration, “Bring your shield up.” 

 

“What?” the confused man stared at the stranger, blinking, completely lost. 

 

“Bring up your shield,” the words were said slowly and with force, as if that along would help Steve understand. 

 

“I'm not holding a -”

 

“Oh for-” the man harrumphed, cutting off whatever swear word was about to be uttered, “Just put up your arm, Rogers.”

 

The world seemed to blur and for a split second, Steve saw a woman's face that would have been attractive if not for the obvious hate marring her features. She was holding a staff pointed towards him, nearly blinding him with light emanating from the end of it, and her other hand was swinging a sword at him. Everything was so still, as if he was looking at a picture. 

 

“Bring up your shield,” that beautiful voice whispered right into his ear. 

 

Steve brought his arm up, just as he'd wanted to in every daydream, now that he was moving. The woman snarled further and the light increased. Suddenly the frail man was back on the street, his arm uselessly over his head, alone. 

 

Trying to forget the encounter, the blond went along on his daily life, working at the volunteer clinic and applying and failing to enter the army. 

 

It had to have been weeks, but it felt like the blink of an eye when he heard that voice again. 

 

“Duck.” 

 

Spinning to face his own personal tormentor, Steve made a face at the other man, “What?”

 

“Come now, my dear captain, it worked last time you did as I wanted, so do it again.” There was a smirk gracing those delicate features, and Steve couldn't help but think that was far more normal. ...What?

 

“I didn't-” Steve stopped as he heard his name rumbling around him like thunder. His mystery man scoffed and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about finesse and large dunder-headed oafs. 

 

“If you want to keep that pretty head, **duck** ,” the man said the words with the same face of concentration as before. 

 

Confused, and wary, Steve did as he was told anyway, what was the harm? As he crouched down, far more swiftly and with an ease he should not have, he heard and felt something move above him. 

 

Looking up, he saw his strange friend smile down at him, it was a smile of relief that made no sense to see on a stranger. Steve felt himself smirk, “So you think I'm pretty.” 

 

Surprised green eyes watched him for a second before his smirk was matched, “Oh my good Captain, if I only knew you felt like this out of this spell, I would make a move.” 

 

That beautiful voice was so sad, and Steve wanted nothing more than to take that sadness away, “Spell?” he whispered, reaching out, but the stranger was gone, not even a small popping sound to indicate his leaving. 

 

The next time, he was prepared. “Jump back,” the smooth voice said, and grinning, Steve spun, grabbing his mystery man and turning the move into a smooth leap forward. 

 

A movement that should have been impossible for such a frail body. 

 

Steve looked down to see muscles and a lean figure. He looked to the man in his arms in confusion, his smile was sad but still tender and a graceful hand reached up to cup his cheek, “Yes, Captain, remember who you are.” 

 

Spell, shield, Captain.... Steve kept staring at... at... “Loki,” he whispered. 

 

Those green eyes twinkled, though the sad look still remained, “Good,” he whispered back, his hand falling away from the Captain's face. 

 

The light intensified and he could no longer see the dark haired man, Steve shouted in protest as the staff was shattered under Thor's strong grip and Amora's wail joined his own sound of frustration. 

 

Breathing heavily, he watched the god of thunder bundle the sorceress' hands together, attaching a muzzle around her gnashing teeth, cutting off her swearing and oaths to get Thor back for this. Standing, he turned to face the golden haired man fully, “Where is your brother?” 

 

Blinking slowly, the massive blond looked lost, “He currently resides in his jail, friend Steven, he can not bring harm to you now.” 

 

Shaking his head, Steve smiled slowly, “No, Thor, he saved me.” 

 

Realization crossed both the large man and the squirming woman's face, Thor shook her lightly even as he smiled widely at his comrade, “I will arrange for you to meet.” 

 

Steve returned the smile, relief making his chest feel lighter. He had a certain something to discuss with the Trickster God. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something to get my mind off the way Bucky refuses, vehemently, to actually work with me. For those of you waiting for the second installment of my Skyrim series, that would be why you are still waiting. >.-


End file.
